Possess
by illyna
Summary: What happened before the fishing cut scene? Fujin, Seifer, a hotel room.


Possess  
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Possess. (vb.)1.To have as one's property; own.  
2.To gain control over or dominate.  
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The room was darkened and dingy, as most cheap hotels were. It was narrow, oddly shaped, as thin plasterboard wall had been placed down its centre, splitting a previously larger room into two. The woodchip wallpaper, once a magnolia colour, but now no longer true, was mottled by black damp patches, and torn in many places. The smell of mildew hung in the air, thick and heavy, permeating the entire area.  
  
Furniture was sparse, as was often the way when you had little money. A pair of twin beds, squeezed into the small space, almost touching. Their mattresses creaking and groaning under years of constant pressure, as any weight was placed upon them. A small sink, a vile lime green construction, with a ring of encrusted grime circling it. A tiny white chest of drawers. A solitary chair placed by the picture window.  
  
The view from said window was spectacularly non-spectacular. The hotel, being situated behind a row of arcade shops, had the stunning visage of walls from its windows. A nearby neon sign, spluttering its slogan of "Tiddles Pet Emporium" alternately filled the room with an eerie green glow, and then darkness. The stormy sky, just visible above the towering blocks, added another veil of pressure, and reflected the light into the room. The pale girl, seated at the window, with her feet tucked under her, looked almost alien in the tinge of olive thrown over her skin.  
  
Nearby a plate of food sat, almost untouched. Moved around the plate by restless hands, but not tasted. Clothes were thrown haphazardly in a pile on one of the beds. A book lay on her lap, pages askew, facing down. She could not read at a time like this. Mind drifting, turning, tumbling, recursive in its efforts. Drawn back to the same point in time, however hard she tried.  
  
"DAMN."  
  
The novel was thrown forcibly and expertly across the room, thudding loudly next to the doorway, narrowly missing the head of the person just entering.  
  
"Watch it Fuu!" the exclamation was made by a very familiar voice…  
  
Fujin spun in her chair. He, who was haunting her thoughts, was now here, haunting her room also. Her face flashed through a number of emotions: relief, anger, happiness, before once more settling into the neutral façade  
usually presented. She met his eyes for one long moment, burning fire meeting cooling sea green, then turned to face the window. The neon rays casting a sheen over her silver hair, making her look almost ethereal.  
  
This was not the reception that Seifer Almasy had expected. He had expected worried exclamations, wondrous marvellment at his feats, and overwhelming relief from the female element of his posse. After all that was what always happened, and that was what he had received from Raijin when he met him down on the pier, just a few minutes earlier.   
  
And he always believed Fujin felt… a fondness for him. Something more than just simple friendship. Hells, she was more than a casual acquaintance to him.  
  
Anger coursed through his veins. She, they, had abandoned him in his time of need. He had almost died in that final fateful battle. But still, he was willing to forgive them for their misconduct, and now she was ignoring him! Her impudence riled him. He wanted an apology damnit!  
  
Come to think of it, Raijin, although pleased to see him, and having almost backslapped him out of existence, hadn't offered him an apology either. His posse was getting sloppy, disrespectful. He would have to fix this before his authority was completely overwritten.  
  
"Fujin," he snapped at her, "look at me."  
  
The order was harsh, yet she complied. She moved, padding barefoot, until she stood directly in front of him. She stayed there, staring him straight in the eye. It was a far cry from her usual submissive stance. Jaw clenched, she merely folded her arms in front of her chest, forming a protective barrier between them.  
  
Seifer surveyed her, realising with a start that he had never truly looked at her before. Dark circles ringed her eye, smudges against the pale, pale skin. She looked weary, as if a huge weight was strapped to her shoulders. A faint shadow of a bruise, not yet fully healed, graced her jaw. The cap of silver hair unbrushed, dishevelled.   
  
How come he had never noticed the fire in her eye before? The shape of her face? How fragile she looked dressed in one of Raijin's oversized shirts?  
  
Likewise Fujin gazed at the ever so familiar features of Seifer. Features she knew better than the back of her own hand. Features that would forever stay with her, appearing in her dreams as much as in her waking hours. He looked well, all things considered.  
  
But she searched his face for something in particular… the gleam behind his eye that was pure Seifer. The arrogance, the strength, the assurance. He was back, uncontrolled. Relief poured through her inwardly.  
  
But outwardly she remained stoic, unwavering. She knew exactly what he wanted from her. After being with him for so many years, she could practically read his mind.   
  
He wanted an apology. Pandering to his ego.  
  
But this time he wasn't going to get one.  
  
Fujin had followed blindly for too long. It was time to make a stand for herself.  
  
The locked stares continued. Seifer curled his lip into his trademark sneer.  
  
"So Fuu, anything to say to me?"  
  
She pondered this, silent as always, for a few moments. Then, moistening her lips slightly first, she spoke:  
  
"BACK. GLAD."  
  
Green bored into red. "Is that all?" He rasped out.  
  
A single nod was his only reply. His face hardened almost imperceptibly.  
  
"I deserve an apology goddamnit! You abandoned me when I needed you the most. I almost died! At least you could say you were sorry!"  
  
Fujin cowered inside at his angry words. She was so close to breaking, to throwing herself onto her knees and onto his mercy, begging for forgiveness. She would do anything to please him.  
  
Except this. So she didn't move.  
  
"NO."  
  
Seifer recoiled slightly from the blunt rejection of his words. Never had his posse been so downright unrespectful of him.  
  
"What do you mean no?"  
  
Fujin repeated the monosyllable once again.  
  
"NO." Untucking her fingers from under her arm, she jabbed an index finger against his chest. "YOU. WRONG."  
  
Seifer's head spun in disbelief. Fujin was contradicting him outright. Breaking the look that had held between them, he turned on heel and headed towards the door. His trenchcoat, battered, swished behind him as he made his way.  
  
"Then there is nothing else to be said. Goodbye Fujin. I thought we were a posse."  
  
Hand grasped the doorknob firmly, ready to leave the room, and the life of the girl within it forever.  
  
"Posse… we will always be…"  
  
The line was said hesitantly, painstakingly, quietly. The same line had been etched eternally into the memory of Seifer Almasy. Betrayal.  
  
He paused.  
  
"Please, understand." She began again, voice shaking from either the effort, or the emotion. "It can't be the same anymore…"  
  
She was staring at the floor, in a typical Fujin pose. Yet her stance was different. Stronger somewhat. She glanced up at him. The air between them buzzed with tension. He felt that the balance of power was being changed.  
  
Seifer merely looked at her. She was trembling outwardly now. With a sudden clarity, he understood what Fujin, in her communicatively klutzy way, was trying to tell him.  
  
There would no longer be a first place. She, they, of his posse were tired of merely following. No longer a leader. Gold, silver and bronze may be the colours that they were cast in, but they would no longer be a reflection of the power wielded. Fujin was no possession of his. She had her own life.  
  
She was right. His mistakes were his mistakes. No more passing the gil would be tolerated.  
  
He opened his arms to her.  
  
"Damnit, I am such a moron. I'm sorry Fujin, I'm so sorry."  
  
All at once she was in his grasp, hugging him tightly, as if he might disappear once again. Squeezing the breath out of his lungs faster than he could replace it. She was warm, belying her appearance. He held her close, feeling finally at peace.  
  
Everything was finally falling into place… only one piece of the puzzle missing.  
  
"I've left Raijin on the pier fishing," he murmured into her hair. "We'd better go get the idiot."  
  
He heard a muffled chuckle against his chest, as she began to extract herself, somewhat reluctantly, from his grip. He studiously ignored the tearstains on his trenchcoat.  
  
They left the hotel, throwing a few gil for the bill to a bewildered bellhop tagged Waz, and gliding arm in arm out into the street. The sun broke through the clouds, revealing a perfect blue sky.  
  
All of a sudden, everything seemed right with the world. The posse was complete once again… and they were going fishing.  
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Posse. (poss-ee) (n)1. A selected group of men who the sheriff may call upon.  
2. A group of friends or associates.  
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The End.  
  
  
Disclaimer: It is either the characters or the story that isn't mine. Take a guess which!  
This story is set between the posse speech in game, and the ending FMV of the DC fishing.  
Dictionary definitions are from The Oxford English Dictionary.  
It seems strange to do a fic with no song lyrics to recommend, but here it is!  
Enjoy..!  



End file.
